Page 10 of Pucking Fate

4

Maya

I’m not sure why I have to clean the entire house a second time while waiting for Christian to show up this afternoon. Maybe it’s nerves or maybe it’s a stupid, unconscious desire to make things look more perfect than they are.

Either way, by the time I hear the knock at the door, the kitchen is spotless and there’s not a fleck of dirt on the carpet.

After the heartbreak of finding out I was pregnant, being disowned by my parents, and Christian leaving to join the pros without even a goodbye, I remember scrubbing Preston’s apartment from top to bottom every day for two whole weeks after I moved in with him. House cleaning was all that I had to do while my brother was at practice. I guess it was my way of meditating, taking my mind off everything or a way to take back control in my spiraling life.

Today, though, I’m mostly just nervous for this face-to-face confrontation with Christian without Preston or Elle around to act as a buffer like the previous time.

Taking a deep breath, I finally open the door to find Christian standing there, looking way too hot for someone who holds all my good sense in the palm of his hand. Even wearing the casual Bobcats tee and jeans, his short blond hair sticking up every which way, he still somehow manages to look like he just stepped out of a GQ magazine.

And seeing him still draws all the air from my lungs.

“Hey,” he says, his deep voice soft, his smile wobbly, like he’s testing the waters. It finally occurs to me that despite his outward appearance, he’s probably just as nervous about this visit as I am. Maybe even more so.

“Hey,” I reply, stepping aside to let him in. As he walks past me, I catch a whiff of his cologne—woodsy and clean, and so him. My stomach does an unwelcome, eager flip at the familiar scent, and I tell it to settle down. Christian’s gorgeousness has always made me feel like he’s out of my league. Like we’re not even playing the same sport. He’s a superstar professional hockey player breaking scoring records, while I’m still stumbling around the empty field of my high school soccer team.

I still find it hard to believe that he once upon a time wanted to be with me. Wanted me enough that we made a son together.

A son who I would do anything for.

That’s why I steel my spine before Finley realizes he’s here to tell him, “We need to lay some ground rules.”

“Ground rules?” he repeats. “Right. Sure. Anything you want.”

“You’re still just here visiting as a friend.”

His sculpted, scruffy golden jaw twitches as he glances away toward the empty living room. “Fine, but how long am I only going to be a friend?”

“That depends,” I reply. “IfI decide it’s time to tell Finley the truth, it will be after you prove that you’re up for the jobof being…more than a friend. I need…I need you to be a good role model for him and convince me that I can trust you to take care of him if you’re alone with him for even a few minutes or possibly hours. But that’s it. You won’t get to take him to Greensboro overnight without me there.”

Christian gives me a nod of understanding. “Okay. And I won’t get an attorney and push for more…as long as you give me the entire summer to prove to you that you can trust me to be a good father to Finley.”

“The entire summer?” I say in surprise at his unexpected terms of negotiation.

“You don’t think it will take me that long to earn your trust and show you I can be a good role model?”

“Yes. No. I mean, I’m not sure.” Flustered, I cross my arms over my chest and ask him, “How often are you planning to come up and visit?”

“As often as you’ll let me. I could get a hotel room long-term so I can be here every day.”

“Every day?!” I exclaim.

At my raised voice, Finley comes barreling toward us. “Holy crap! Christian Riley’s in my house!” He launches himself at the playboy hockey player with a squeal of delight, as if the man he barely knows is now his favorite person in the world.

And I guess I’m a little jealous that while I was the one getting up three or four times a night to feed him as a baby, to worry about his every breath from the first one he took after a long, hard labor, I’m not a superstar athlete, just his boring, jobless, talentless mother.

Christian scoops Finley up effortlessly, his face breaking into a wide grin as he props him on his hip. “Hey, buddy. How have you been?”

“I’m good, but why are you here?” Finley asks, jumping right into this surprise visit headfirst, as if it’s too good to be true.

“Your Uncle Preston and mom said I could spend time with you over this summer. What do you think? Are you up for hanging out with me?”

“Heck yes!”

I take a step back to watch the two of them together, my arms still crossed over my chest, feeling a strange mixture of warmth and unease.

---